The discovery of an old boundary stone on the river bank opposite Gaiety Row, marked ‘MB 1934’ (one of two such it is believed), sparked the investigative instincts of our special correspondent, Joy Marshall, the other day. She was curious about its provenance and talked to the Ramblers about its possible origins and passed the material to your editor. It seems that this stone is the last remnant of a Maidenhead Boundary Walk in 1949 and makes one wonder, 'Did the walkers walk on water too?' It also makes me wonder if Taplow residents ever walked their boundaries.
We need to go back to rather ancient times to find out where the custom of Beating the Bounds originated. Originally the custom came from Europe. It was initiated by the Archbishop of Vienna in the year 470 after terrible plagues and minor earthquakes had caused much hardship among the people. He ordered special prayers, asking God's blessing on their crops, to be recited as the villagers processed around their fields. The custom spread rapidly around Western Europe, and by the eighth century was established in Britain.
In days that offered little excitement to ordinary people, it can be imagined that processions around the countryside in lovely spring weather were very popular. In fact, not only the fields were blessed: in seaside districts the parishioners would troop down to the waterside and bless the water and the fishing boats and pray for a good fishing season ahead. These processions were also useful in showing people their parish boundaries and as time went on, these boundaries became even more important as administration was changing. So, the custom of 'beating the bounds' grew up to show everyone, and especially the younger members of the parish, where the boundaries lay.
At the boundary-marks of the parish, such as a pond, a big tree or a rock, the parson would stop and read the Gospel, and when this had been done the boys of the parish suffered some indignity to imprint the boundary-mark on their minds. Sometimes they were bumped about, pushed into the stream, turned upside-down over a fence or hedge, thrown in a bramble-bush, or beaten with willow wands. The willow wands used both then and now come from the straight suckers of a pollarded willow. Stripping the soft bark from the outside reveals the beautifully smooth white wood of new willow and it is from this action of removing the bark that we get the title of the country dance 'Strip the Willow'.
In later years the parson was replaced by the local mayor who made a speech at the start of the boundary walk to explain the ceremony and to refresh people’s memories of where the boundaries were. Youngsters would join in the fun and carried pennants, with MB in blue letters – presumably meaning Maidenhead Boundary (or Borough?). In those happier days,
only 34 years ago! (1973 being the last time that Maidenhead carried out the ritual) – the mayor ran the risk of being grabbed and 'bumped' on a milestone. It may be assumed that the '1934' on the Gaiety Row boundary stone is the year of manufacture since in 1934 four dozen such milestones were delivered. In the 1949 perambulation only 27 of these stones were found. I wonder if they counted our two?
Joy Marshall & Fred Russell
